The Knife immerses viewers in a story about clear-eyed choices

In the Cup of Tea Critiques Podcast episode, “What is the Goal of a Short Film?”, we comment that many short films are not only standalone stories but also stories with strong, life-relevant themes. At 82 minutes, The Knife is not considered a short film. It is, though, a short feature that carries valuable life lessons despite its theatrical brevity.

In case you’re unfamiliar, The Knife is a drama directed and co-written by former NFL cornerback Nnamdi Asomugha. Asomugha and Aja Naomi King lead the cast as Chris and Alex, respectively, a married couple with three children. The family recently bought a fixer-upper in a Towson County, Maryland neighborhood known for crime. A talented construction worker and the sole provider of his family, Chris spends his evenings and weekends renovating the home and feverishly preparing his oldest daughter’s bedroom, so she doesn’t have to share rooms with her slightly younger sister. All is well until Chris awakens one night to an intruder in his home. 

Melissa Leo of The Equalizer movie franchise is Detective Carlsen, the smart and affable cop with a nose for BS who insists throughout the investigation that “there is a process” that must be followed. As we learn through Detective Carlsen’s questions and our own observations of the family, the details uncover a complex narrative.

I will admit that when it comes to dramas containing scenes of police interacting with Black people, I tend to expect unpleasant exchanges and the worst (or least helpful) outcomes. I anticipate that the police are going to get indignant or do something unjust that will raise my ire. But a brilliant plot twist occurs in The Knife that sharply changes the stakes in the movie early on. There I am, suddenly dropped into the deep end of the story, and forced to make a mental readjustment. 

It is fair to say that police dramas are intense on their own. In addition to the interrogations themselves, the environments in which police question people and the conditions under which they do so are stressful. As such, time and space can vary the intensity of a police drama. Darkness, for instance, is used quite effectively in The Knife. The home invasion occurs at night, a time when many of us feel most vulnerable, as evidenced by the fact that we check our door locks and set the alarm before heading to bed. Darkness brings fear and uncertainty. 

The Knife also makes effective use of location. While likely a budget decision, the entire film is shot in Chris’s and Alex’s home, which is eventually transformed into a crime scene. A space that symbolizes comfort and peace is then occupied by strangers in uniform, who strip Chris, Alex, and their children of the freedom to move about, express themselves as they choose, and even to speak freely in their own home. The struggle over control of this space increases the tension in the film. 

Finally, all the events occur when the family is normally sound asleep in their beds, making the entire process surreal and disorienting. So, the conditions brought about by time and space heighten the intensity and intrigue of this story, making the family’s fear palpable and the police officers’ intentions questionable.

I was exposed to Gramscian theory during graduate school—you know him, Antonio Gramsci, the Italian theorist who wrote in the early twentieth century. While he unapologetically acknowledged how prevailing ideas influence our thinking and lead us to accept life as it is, he also emphasized that agency plays a role in our circumstances. In other words, sometimes we act in ways that make things worse for ourselves. He suggests that even though so much is out of our control given ideology, bureaucracy, laws, police power, etc., we can still make clear-eyed choices that help us control our own destinies. While I generally agree, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and living since graduate school.

What Gramsci’s theory doesn’t account for are the emotional elements people experience, like panic and desperation, when they suddenly find themselves amid consequential entanglements that can spur a fight-or-flight response. To what degree can we be clear-eyed when we are in a situation that doesn’t offer the time and space to be clear-headed? When we’re not clear-headed, what we have is confusion, chaos, and disorder rather than an opportunity to use agency to make a clear-eyed choice. In such situations, it is more likely this results in a mistake in judgment with potentially unintended consequences. The Knife does a laudable job of driving home these very points. Hmmm, perhaps the filmmakers critiqued Gramsci too.

The Knife is an intense film with high stakes. It gives us pause, makes us dig deep, and forces us to consider the choices we make, as well as the constraints around those choices. Crawling inside ourselves for this introspection is probably one of the most important things we can do, since it is likely to sharpen our judgment and lead to fewer grave errors. And who would have thought such a profound message would come in a package as small as an 82-minute theatrical release.